


False Assumptions

by NerdsNeedLoveToo



Series: Athletes [2]
Category: Hit the Floor (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Assumptions, Athletes, Jude deserves nice things, M/M, Smut is totally gratuitous because the fic got too serious, Swimming, zero is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsNeedLoveToo/pseuds/NerdsNeedLoveToo
Summary: Everyone makes assumptions. Sometimes they're wrong. When Pete makes one about Jude, Zero takes it upon himself to correct his coach.





	False Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't remember from the show when and where Jude's mom was mentioned (except once when Oscar called her weak). And I can't go back and rewatch. So I have taken some liberties (and made some assumptions myself). 
> 
> Also, I don't own the show or any of the characters. I'm just enjoying them for the time being, and hope you enjoy what I've put together, too. 
> 
> One other note: a grade 3 hamstring injury is the worst you can have. It potentially can be a tear across the entire muscle, and almost always renders the leg immovable at the time it occurs.

Jude Kinkade had the entire on-site medical staff sitting at a table in the Playground, along with Pete Davenport, the Devils' head coach. He’d opted to move the meeting to a place where everyone might feel a little more relaxed, given that the elite club was all but empty this time of day. He’d been struggling to make them understand for _weeks_ that there wasn’t enough in the annual budget to expand the medical staff and supplies. They’d just had a major malfunction in the heating and cooling system resulting in an unexpected half a million dollar overrun.

“Look,” he tried to explain, handing over spreadsheets to everyone seated at the table. “We have a limited budget for operations, and while I believe we need to have well-funded medical and training facilities, I just don’t have it available right now.”

In reality, Jude just hoped to give those making constant demands for _more_ some insight into what he dealt with every damn day.

“Without better tubs, we can’t deal with injuries as efficiently,” one of the physio staff reasoned.

“Then show me where I can make adjustments,” Jude replied. He knew they had decent tubs, but they could probably do better. He continued, “Give me a solid return on investment that I can take to the board. Otherwise, we’re already running in the red, and I can’t justify it.”

It’s like they expected him to crap money whenever they wanted.

Of course, the arguments erupted for the umpteenth time that it was Jude’s job to find the money, not theirs. The man in question felt himself getting edgier and edgier. It didn’t help that Zero had managed to overextend his arm just two days before, and turned out to be a pissy invalid. Jude had been on the verge of slamming his lover’s head into something hard and immovable before he escaped home that morning.

It also didn’t help that when he looked up, the man in question was sauntering across the room towards him. All he could think was, _Goddam, Lionel, you had one job today – keep Zero out of my hair_.

Zero was maybe ten feet away when Pete finally said, “It’s not like you’d know what being injured means to one of these guys.”

And fuck it, that was the last straw.

“You know what? You figure out where the money is going to come from. Negotiate with the other sections – from concessions to ticketing to janitorial. You come up with something? I’ll listen. Otherwise, fuck off.”

Jude shook off Zero’s outreached hand as he stormed past.

For his part, Zero waited until he knew Jude was gone before he calmly strode over to the table, looked at Pete and asked, “Hey, Coach D? I know you can be impatient. Occasionally rude. Never actually thought that D would stand for Dick, though.”

Pete looked at Zero and narrowed his eyes. He ground out, “What the hell would a pencil-pusher like Jude know about any of this? Except maybe how it affects _you_?”

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions. Guess you get to be the ass today,” Zero said with a shrug (which he regretted, since that shoulder and arm were in a sling for a reason). Unhurried, he walked over to the bar and spoke with the staff on duty. Within minutes the bartender had switched over the closest two monitors, and was pulling up YouTube.

“You think he doesn’t get it? Or that it’s all numbers?”

The grainy video had obviously been taken from a home camera. It shook, ridiculously so, until it suddenly stopped moving, and a very young Jude Kinkade appeared onscreen. He hadn’t totally filled out yet. His baby face looked even less like he could possibly grow a beard than currently.

“Hey, so I’m Jude Kinkade, and I’m sending this along with my admissions application in hopes you select me to attend the University of Denver,” he said, smiling wide into the camera. “And if you’re wondering why it’s dark and I’m whispering? It’s because it’s 4:00AM, I’m heading to practice, and I didn’t want to wake my mom up. She just got off a double.”

Jude at seventeen looked so very young, in Zero’s mind. He knew much of the history between what happened between this video and when they first met. How it aged him, and stripped away some of the idealism.

“So, I guess I better tell you about myself. I’m a senior in high school, as you might guess. I’m seventeen and am a member of the National Honor Society. Oh! I’m also in the Future Business Leaders of America, and I’m on the Knowledge Bowl team.”

Zero smiled when he watched Jude draw his lower lip in and suck on it. He still did that, when nervous… or turned on. He’d never admit it, but that look _always_ shot straight to Zero’s crotch. If Jude ever found out, he was positive the gesture would be used by Jude to get his way. And boy would he.

The video began to shake again, as Jude obviously picked it up. He got halfway down the stairs before a light flicked on, and he looked up in surprise. The video swung around, and a pretty woman with short, slightly curly brown hair smiled.

“Hey, this is my mom, Liddy. The best mom in the world,” Jude said, as his mother rolled her eyes. The resemblance was very obvious. From the hue of her cheeks, the shape of her eyes, and the way she had one stray curl that wanted to sweep over her forehead, they were obviously mother and son.

“Good morning, University of Denver,” she murmured, looking into the camera. Then she looked beyond it to the camera operator and said, “Jude, I’ve packed extra pasta for tonight. Make sure you grab the cooler before you head out. And don’t bother bringing the car home before the meet. Beth is giving me a ride to the pool this afternoon.”

When she wandered back to her room, closing her long bathrobe tighter, Jude swung the camera back.

“Like I said – best mom ever. And now, I gotta head out. Practice starts at 4:45, followed by school at 8:00,” he said, and the screen went blank.

The video started and stopped several times. At one point, his coach spoke into the camera, giving a brief history of his philosophy on coaching – how he’s taught his kids to learn to swim. He spoke of technique and fun instead of sloppy and winning. He expounded on Jude’s strengths, and (surprisingly) on Jude’s weaknesses. He didn’t pull his punches at all, including talking about Jude’s propensity to have hamstring muscle issues due to a car accident at age five.

Then later, it was several of his teachers talking about what kind of student he was. One consistent theme ran throughout the day. Everyone loved Jude, and used words like thoughtful, kind, reliable, considerate, and smart.

The end of the video was filled with a USA regional championship meet.

Jude won three individual events, and two relays. He came in second for two others.

The screen went blank for a moment before Zero said, “Yeah, Coach D. Looks like you get to be the ass.”

Another video started.

This one was obviously not a home movie.

_“Welcome to USA Swimming’s national championships. We are on event forty three, the men's two_ _hundred breast stroke."_

Zero hated this video. He hated it, because although Jude rarely talked about it, it still hurt him. It didn’t stop Zero from smiling proudly, though, when they announced the swimmers, and Jude’s name came up.

_“Jude Kinkade is one to watch, having already won the four hundred IM. He’s the one to beat in this event.”_

In the background, a faint, _Take your mark_ , could be heard as the swimmers donning speedos and compression suits situated themselves. Muscles along the platforms bunched as they prepared to launch themselves into the water.

The buzzer sounded, and the swimmers were off.

Nineteen-year-old Jude vaulted off the blocks, but it took almost no time before they all knew something was wrong. By the time he made it the length of the pool, his coach was kneeling down, signaling for a couple other swimmers nearby. Together, they reached down and pulled him from the pool, and the look of devastation on Jude’s face was heartbreaking.

Zero didn’t wait for more to be shown. He nodded to the bartender, who flipped off the video. And he might’ve said something more, except someone else did.

“You didn’t need to defend me,” Jude softly said, wandering back in, looking mildly defeated. “It’s okay. I got over it a long time ago.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Zero replied, once again shrugging his stupid shoulder with the stupid muscle pull in his upper arm, in the stupid sling.

“I came back to apologize,” Jude said, confronting the group still seated at the table. “I lost my temper, and that doesn’t help anything.”

With nothing else to say, Jude looked down at his shoes, feeling more than a little awkward. Not to mention embarrassed. He’d basically thrown a tantrum not ten minutes earlier.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Pete finally conceded, breaking the silence. Quickly, feeling really out of place and a little judgmental themselves, the group stood up and started to leave. Pete followed the group out, and stopped when he got to Jude. He admitted, “I was out of line.”

Jude figured that was as close as he’d ever get to an apology, so he nodded in acceptance.

Once everyone was gone, Zero looked around, trying to wish the floor open. Mainly because he sucked at apologies, and he knew for a fact part of Jude’s stress was due to Zero being a big baby about his minor muscle strain.

“Yeah, I figured out what would make this whole thing better,” Zero said in lieu of that apology, “You could kiss my boo boo.”

Jude barked a laugh, walked the last few feet to Zero, and wrapped him in a hug. Zero held on with his one arm while Jude settled his forehead on Zero’s shoulder. The blond, a very handsy and tactile kind of man, nuzzled Jude’s ear, and whispered, “I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Jude didn’t lift his head when he mumbled, “I miss her so much.”

And if that wasn’t a punch in the gut. Zero hadn’t really known his parents, so he didn’t know what it meant to miss one. Jude, on the other hand, had grown up with a mom who made him into the man he was today. Oscar had luckily had no real influence on Jude. He’d once told Jude his mother was weak. She’d been anything but. She’d been Jude’s rock, his greatest champion, and the two had been close.

Shortly after Jude’s high school graduation, she’d been diagnosed with lung cancer – one of the most aggressive kinds. The doctors had given her six months. She made it over a year.

She was in the stands at that competition, pale, too thin, and wearing a ball cap. And when they’d pulled Jude from the pool, she’d been there. When they confirmed a grade three hamstring injury that ended his swimming career, she’d been there. Through the best and worst, she’d been there. Until she wasn’t.

“Let me take you home,” Zero said. He half-regretted showing Coach the videos, but he’d be damned if anyone could say anything about Jude within his hearing and not be corrected.

The thing about their house – the one they’d built just for them – was that Zero had gone behind Jude’s back for one and only one thing. They’d agreed on damn near everything else, except this one thing. By the time Jude realized they’d dug a short-course pool in the backyard, it had been too late. They didn’t need a backyard basketball court. That’s what the driveway was for. Jude loved swimming, and if Jude loved it, Zero had been pretty bent on giving it to him.

And the one thing Jude loved more than anything else (including the Devils, and occasionally Zero when he was being a dumbass) was water.

As they sat semi-submerged in the shallow end of the pool, Jude lay on his back just floating. He’d always loved this feeling. Nothing else felt so freeing to him.

He didn’t even try to ignore what Zero was doing.

His insatiable lover had already stripped him from his clothes and was having the time of his life alternating between splashing and groping him in equal measures. Both were hard, but it was difficult to feel motivated to rush in the heated pool. So Jude just floated and let Gideon’s hand slide up his thigh until he reached that junction.

Jude spread his legs a little more, giving easy access, smiling when he heard Gideon’s breath hitch. He groaned when his lover added _taste_ to the senses in use. Jude arched himself out of the water as Gideon’s mouth completely encased him in a different kind of wet heat. And he moaned, half afraid he’d drown in just two feet of water.

Gideon, kneeling in the water, held Jude up while he bobbed up and down, until Jude thought drowning might become a reality, and tugged on the blond’s hair.

It didn’t take much for them to move to the side of the pool.

It took even less for Gideon’s mouth to be on Jude one more time and both of them moaning. It took only seconds for Jude to shout out, and shoot spurts of thick white fluid into Gideon’s mouth. It felt like his orgasm would shake him to the core, but Gideon kept going, swallowing some, but with much overflowing and dribbling down the side of his mouth onto his chin.

Eventually, over-sensitized, Jude put a shaking hand onto Gideon’s head, and the blond man stopped. With his eyes closed, Jude felt Gideon lay out next to him on the hard concrete, and wondered what kind of burns they would have later that night and tomorrow.

“Gimme a minute and I’ll return the favor,” Jude thickly murmured, coming slowly down off his blissful high.

“Naw,” Gideon replied quietly, half-throwing himself over Jude like two lovers laying in bed instead of under the late-afternoon sun. Then Gideon began to nuzzle Jude’s neck, snuffling and kissing him with affection. “I’m good.”

After a moment, Jude looked at his lover. His best friend, really. The one person who got him. And said, “Yeah. You are.”

They only had one regret.

Falling asleep in the LA sun was not their best and brightest moment. And when Zero stripped down, half the team knew he’d been naked when it happened, based on the lack of tan lines. This meant a week of comments, catcalls, and other nonsense on and off the court.

He didn’t mind at all. He could live with their assumptions.


End file.
